The Results of a New Year's Fling
by Nibzo
Summary: "I'm sorry."  "Sorry?  For what?"  "For blowing up your classroom."  Arthur Kirkland goes back to New York a month after his fling with an American chemistry teacher to tell him just how he feels.  AU, Smut, USUK


**I was actually planning on putting this fic out on Valentine's Day. **

**But it wasn't finished. Oops.**

**So here it is now. Um…not Valentine's Day so…Happy Leap Year!**

**Disclaimer: Do not own Hetalia.**

So here he was now.

This was the moment that Arthur Kirkland had been dreading. Or, it was bound to be one of those moments. Here he was, sitting in a New York taxi in the middle of February, knees bouncing in anticipation and anxiety as he watched the colorful city fly by. He had hoped almost a month earlier that he wouldn't return, and yet, here he was, cursing his insecurities and his sudden burst of confidence and the spontaneity of it all and with every ticking second they were getting closer and oh God, he couldn't do this, he just couldn't, his heart was going to burst forth from his chest and…

"We'll be there in about three minutes or so."

"_Pay the man, pay the man, just pay the man and go, is it too late to turn around?"_

Arthur rifled nervously through his wallet, very aware of every sound around him; the roaring of the engine, the ticking of the meter, all of these sounds and more assaulted the blonde with an overwhelming force as each second went by at an agonizingly slow pace.

So slow, in fact, it was hard not to reminisce about the event that had brought him to be in this situation, back to his New Year's vacation to the states and an encounter with an American chemistry teacher that would forever change his life.

_One month, 12 days, 14 hours, and 37 minutes ago_

The blonde sat at the bar alone on New Year's Eve, only 1 hour and 23 minutes before that infamous ball would drop. _"Really,"_ he thought to himself, _"am I that pathetic that I would be at a bar crowded with people on New Year's Eve?"_

Yes, yes indeed, he was.

He was in the states to get away from a break-up.

A really nasty break-up. One of those messy break-ups that have people terribly on the edge and dying for release of any kind, mostly from emotion though, and willing to do whatever it took to get rid of that empty, sinking pit that was his stomach.

And he was sick of listening to Jamie O' Neal and crying by himself anyway. It was so much more fulfilling when he was in a bar by himself drinking himself stupid…

Yeah, sooooooooooo much better.

Arthur shook his glass, watching the cubes of ice clink together. He giggled to himself, almost mesmerized by how the cubes shined in the light, the scotch glistening on its smooth surface as they tossed in the liquid like little ships at sea.

"Whooooooo, hour 'til New Yearrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr," a voice behind him slurred, footsteps stumbling behind him before he felt something heavy hit him with full force, a few drops of Arthur's scotch sloshing from the glass as they messily splattered against the counter.

"Hey! Hey you!" Arthur shouted, his own voice slurring just a tad, "Friggin' twat, get offa me an' listen."

The body that had drunkenly crashed into him now stood up, revealing just how tall the man was. Arthur was suddenly a bit intimidated; he hadn't quite expected someone that big had crashed into him. He didn't let it show, though.

"Wow," the other man said to him after some tense moments of staring each other down had passed. "You're…you're…"

"Git, if you've got something to say, spit it out. I dun' have all day."

Of course, the taller man only responded by rubbing at his own brow, his hands making back and forth movements across his forehead. This only further angered Arthur as he now slammed down his glass, more scotch washing over the sides.

"You got a problem with the way I look?" he bellowed, "My eyebrows? Is that what you're trying to say, huh?"

Of course, the stranger didn't respond, only stopped the rubbing motion as he continued to stare at Arthur, at first blankly and then with endearment.

"You're cute."

"…Beg pardon?"

The stranger giggled. "I'm Alfred. Alfred F. Jones!"

"Funny, I never asked the pleasure of knowing your name," Arthur sneered, as much venom as he could muster in his voice. "Why don't you sit down and tell me your social security number while you're at it?"

"Okay! 877…"

"I was being sarcastic, git."

"Oh."

Another pause. Arthur could barely take it; Alfred's stupidity was slowly starting to sober him up. Ew. "You are clearly drunker than I am, aren't you?"

"You're drunk?" Alfred asked, now noticing the half empty scotch and splotches on the counter. "Did I do that?"

"Indeed you did."

"I am sooooooooooooooooo sorry!" Alfred suddenly said, a bit panicked. "Lemme buy you another one! Hey, hey you!" he yelled for the bartender, "gimme another scotch…no, no, make it two. One for my friend here and then one more for me!"

"You look like you've had enough," Arthur muttered, though it seemed Alfred had heard him anyway.

"Peeshaaaaaaaaaaaaaw, I have only yet begun to drink! Besides, it's New Years, and I don't have to work tomorrow!"

"Ugh, your voice is annoying!" Arthur yelled over the crowd which had seemed to grow larger and louder, the bartender setting down the scotch which Arthur downed before the bartender could even turn back around. "Get me another one; I'm going to need as many as I can to even tolerate this babbling idiot."

Of course, half an hour later both of them were completely sloshed out of their mind, and had, in a weird way, ended up bonding over the alcohol that they kept buying. Arthur found out that Alfred taught chemistry at a high school in Brooklyn, had a cat named "Superman", and that he hated doing his own laundry. Alfred, in turn, learned that Arthur was a journalist from London, loved cooking, and hated pretty much everything else.

"Jones…hey, hey Jones!" Arthur slurred, tapping his glass of scotch on the table to get the other blonde's attention. "Hey, hey, I'm talkin' to YOU!" he poked the other rather hard in emphasis, which only caused Alfred's fits of giggling to explode into full-out laughter. "What is so bloody funny?"

"Awwwww, man," he continued laughing, his speech even more incomprehensible when taking the slurring into account, "it's just…it's just…man, I don't even know!"

"Well it's pissin' me off, git! So cut it out!"

To which the American tried to stifle his laughter now, little chuckles still getting through before he was able to calm himself down, the Brit lightly punching him in the shoulder to get him to fully shut up. The crowd in the bar had gotten even larger, and Arthur was getting an even bigger headache from the noise that continued to grow in volume with each passing second.

"Hey."

"Hey what?" Arthur snapped when Alfred spoke to him.

"Let's get out of here."

To which the Brit looked blankly at the American, whose hand had reached down to grasp at his own and pull at lightly. "I mean, Times Square is really close by. We should go. The ball is about to drop."

The Brit stopped. He could refuse him, yes, yes, he certainly could do that; it was in his character after all.

Maybe it was the alcohol.

Maybe it was that he was desperate and so sick of being alone.

Maybe it was because deep down he really did find Alfred charming.

Or perhaps it was a combination of the three.

Whatever it was, he said yes.

...

That led them to this point here, mere minutes into the New Year, backed up against the apartment wall of a man he hardly knew, breathy kisses trailing down his neck as he moaned wantonly, fingers digging into the clothes of the taller blonde as the other stopped the small, butterfly kisses against his collar and returned to his lips, taking his breath away as Alfred kissed him senseless.

The ball had long dropped, and it seemed as if his pants were next, the American not even bothering with the shirt on Arthur's back as he dipped his fingers into the Brit's waistband, thrusting his tongue into the other's mouth as he lightly fluttered his fingers against Arthur's waist.

Of course, the Brit didn't discourage him; no, if anything he egged the American on even further. His hands left his back and immediately and harshly grabbed his rear, squeezing the firm cheeks through the rough fabric of his jeans. Alfred broke the kiss and moaned, a knee slipping between the Brit's legs as he then remembered the other's shirt was still there, and moved his hands sensuously up the other's body as he slowly undid each button of the white Oxford.

"Alfred…oh, Alfred…"

Alfred was nibbling at his right ear, licking the lobe sensually as he undid the last button, the shirt slipping off of the Brit's frame and pooling on the floor. He then kissed and licked downward at his chin, down his neck, taking a brief moment to suckle at his shoulder before biting at it.

"Ah!"

Alfred looked to Arthur to continue, his tongue lapping at the wound as he gazed back up into the Brit's eyes, the lust and drink swimming around the pools of green and blue that stared intently at each other.

"You're drunk."

"And so are you."

Immediately their lips smashed together again, the two sloppily kissing each other as the American lifted up his own shirt, pushing his lips as hard as he could into the smaller blonde's before breaking from the kiss to lift his shirt over his head, throwing it to the corner of the room.

"_You shouldn't be doing this. You're both drunk,"_ the voice of reason said in Arthur's head as he wrapped his legs around the taller blonde's waist and the other hoisted him up, taking the smaller's weight and lifting him to the bed.

When Arthur felt himself being dropped to the bed with a soft plop, Arthur knew this was actually happening. He felt his heart rate increase as the American towered over him, the clinking of Alfred's belt especially loud in his ears.

"Wait…wait…should we be doing this?" Arthur finally spat out.

"You wanna stop?" Alfred said mid-taking off his pants, the waistband now below his bottom, his boxers the only thing preventing Arthur from seeing his hard-on.

"No…no…God, no."

"Good, good," Alfred said as he finished taking them off, kicking them to the floor as he dived back down to kiss Arthur again, quickly unbuttoning the Brit's slacks as he hooked his fingers into the waistband a second time and hastily pulled them down. The two clad only in their boxers, Alfred broke the kiss and began moving downward.

Though this time he didn't stop at his neck. After lapping at the hickey he had left earlier he continued downward and paused this time at the green-eyed man's chest, his fingers gently grazing over the little curves and nooks of his body.

"Oh….ohhhhh," Arthur moaned as the American tongued one of his nipples, the muscle sliding against his chest in circles and around the little pink nub. Simultaneously he fingered the other one, grinding their boxer clad crotches together with a great amount of force. Arthur couldn't help but let out the string of moans that followed, the volume of them growing with each thrust. Alfred slowed down, only for a moment though as he swiftly pulled Arthur's boxers down to his knees and then his own, neither of them bothering to kick them off all the way quite yet as they continued their frantic movements, flesh against flesh as they rutted against each other in pure bliss.

"Al…Al…fred…" he managed to spit out, "Need you…need you now."

The American nodded as he took his boxers all of the way off, throwing them to some unknown corner of the room. He then reached over into his nightstand, rifling in the drawer until he had pulled out the necessary item for their activities, Arthur taking the time to fully kick his boxers off all of the way. Alfred he squirted the lube from the bottle he had pulled out onto his fingers, rubbing them together to warm up the liquid slightly.

When his fingers were deemed ready he rubbed some of the excess lube around Arthur's tight hole, Arthur letting out a moan at even the slightest touch down there. His erection now stood parallel to his body and flush against his stomach, and as Alfred slowly began to push a finger inside the smaller blonde's hand immediately went down to his aching length and slowly began to stroke it to distract himself from some of the pain. The sight of Arthur touching himself only made Alfred want him more as he quickly stuck the second finger in, a hiss of pain escaping Arthur's lips, Alfred stopping only for a second when he heard the smaller blonde and the hand on Arthur's member stilled.

"Sorry."

"It's okay, love, just…just keep going," Arthur said, breathing as evenly as he could, starting up a rhythm of touching himself again.

Alfred nodded and continued, wiggling his two digits around carefully and scissoring them apart as he stretched Arthur as well as he could. He waited until Arthur was moaning again this time, the ache of being intruded by the two foreign fingers dulling, before inserting a third and final finger, circling the three inside of his ass as he tried to go deeper and deeper, searching for Arthur's prostate so that he could see how deep he would have to thrust himself inside of him. Suddenly, Arthur let out a loud moan different from the rest, and Alfred couldn't help but feel a bit naughty as he roughly prodded his fingers into that small bundle of nerves multiple times, Arthur letting out a louder moan each time until the smaller sent a rather menacing glare in his direction, his eyes screaming at him to "hurry the hell up."

With a soft pop Alfred withdrew his fingers and again opened the bottle of lube, this time squeezing it onto his palm, rubbing his hands together as he warmed it up for his length. Alfred couldn't help but let out a groan as he was finally being touched that night, his neglected member on the verge of releasing. With a few more swift tugs he closed his eyes and lined himself up at Arthur's hole, reaching his right hand up to lace his fingers with his bed partner's.

"Ready?"

Arthur nodded and groaned, backing himself into Alfred's hard length and Alfred took that as a sign to go ahead and he slowly began to push himself in, Arthur biting his lip as he winced at the pain of being taken. It could have been that Alfred was a bit bigger than his last partner, but even back then the pain had never seemed to fully go away. His breathing sped up, but it wasn't long before Alfred was fully encased, hissing at the burning heat tightening around his member.

"Oh Christ, Arthur…" he moaned. The other gasped, sucked dryly as he tried to get himself over the pain of sex, yet feeling so fulfilled with someone filling him up in this way. After a tense minute that seemed to drag on forever, Arthur wiggled his ass and backed himself up into Alfred, sending him even deeper, silently telling him that it was okay to move.

Alfred pulled himself out, just to the tip, and then pushed himself back inside, only with a bit of force to start with. He kept up this rhythm of gently moving in and out, in an out for Arthur's sake, as he didn't want to hurt the smaller man. He squeezed gently at the other man's hand during this slow beginning, and Arthur would squeeze harder depending on how much it hurt, but he never told Alfred to stop completely. When he did open his mouth to let out something other than a strained moan, it was to tell the other, "Faster" or "Harder".

During each of these commands Alfred obeyed, moving his hips faster in and out and slamming into the other as hard as he could, desperately trying to maneuver himself inside the Brit to find the small bundle of nerves he had found before with his fingers. With each grunt and sigh he knew he should be getting closer, and finally, after what felt like attempt after attempt of missing the mark, Arthur let out a rather loud shriek. Alfred was sure he had found the other's prostate, and his was further assured when his second hit was followed by, "Yes, yes, right there, yes."

Alfred used all of his strength after finding Arthur's prostate to pummel himself into the Brit, the other letting out a string of sexy, long, provocative moans and screams as he was repeatedly pounded into by the American again and again. Garbled words, whimpers and sighs of pleasure, low and high moans alike resonated throughout the room as they continued their erotic dance, both men feelings themselves closer to the edge with each roughened thrust, the slightest of movements adding a whole new level of ecstasy to their lovemaking.

"Arthur…God, Arthur, I'm so close."

"I am too, love," he responded, and Alfred unwound their fingers, his hand snaking its way down Arthur's stomach until it grazed his hard length. He wrapped his fingers around the throbbing heat and Arthur screamed when the other blonde began to pump him, trying to form a rhythm but giving up rather quickly with how frantic the sex had gotten. It didn't really matter to Arthur; it all felt amazing and he didn't want it to end.

"Do it. Cum inside of me, please," Arthur begged. He let out another shout as he felt the first strings of cum spurting out from his length, followed by another and a third, and within those thrusts that followed Alfred came too, his hot seed shooting inside the Brit, letting out an unreserved cry as well as he felt himself let go completely inside of Arthur. Arthur was finally able to fully let go, the last drops of his essence being milked from him in those final tugs.

The American collapsed on top of the Brit, their sweaty bodies and seed mixing together as they tried to catch their breaths from what had just happened. As the two panted in-time together Arthur shifted slightly, causing Alfred to prop himself up ever so slightly in what he thought was a silent thought on how bearing a good deal of his weight could be rather stressful after such strenuous activity. He pulled his flaccid member out of Arthur at that moment too, and instead plopped down beside him, lying on his side to look at the smaller blonde, Arthur turning to his side to meet the American's gaze.

What came next was actually something neither of them was really expecting, as they both closed the gap between them and showered the other's lips with kisses, nips, and licks of affection. Their bodies seemed to fit perfectly against the other, naked flesh touching once more, but not in the lust-driven way they had been before; this was more careful, more loving.

Sharing one last kiss, one that seemed chaste and sweet from the many that had preceded, they cuddled into each other and fell asleep listening to the steady sounds of calm breathing and their own beating hearts.

...

Arthur awoke the next morning with a throbbing headache to the smell of bacon and eggs. Perhaps that wasn't the best smell to wake up to, though; not when suddenly one realizes he's naked and that he had an amazingly mind-blowing one-night stand in the early hours of the new year. In fact, this scent was particularly terrifying to the blonde; that meant that whoever it had been with he was technically still with them the next morning, and boy, did that send the wrong message across.

Then he remembered that the one he had gone home with that evening was none other than that loudmouth from the bar Alfred F. Jones. Not a bad choice, really; the other did have a certain charm to him that Arthur wasn't able to deny, and the fact that he was rather good looking didn't sour things either…

Of course, before he could officially conclude his train of thought on that he heard a tray clattering and the sound of footsteps coming back towards the bedroom: he was done making breakfast already? Dear God, what time was it? Ugh, all of this thinking was making his head hurt even more.

"Mornin', sunshine!" Alfred bellowed as he entered the room carrying a tray with breakfast on it. _"Breakfast in bed,"_ Arthur thought, unknowingly smiling, if only a little bit, _"how sweet of him."_

He shook his head to rid himself of the smile he now noticed had slipped, and nodded his thanks. _"This is where it is going to get awkward," _he thought as Alfred gently set the tray onto the bed, scooting into the covers himself with whatever room there was left for him on there and then grabbing a piece of toast slathered with butter. Arthur made a mental note that he wasn't going to touch that.

Really, all of this was too sweet of the American. His former lover had never made him breakfast in bed, and here was this stranger cuddling up to him and giving him this special treatment not even 24 hours after they had met each other. He wanted to voice these thoughts, say, "Thank you," for really, Alfred had gone out of his way to make him breakfast.

"Coffee? Don't you have any tea?"

And instead, that had come out. Way to go, Arthur.

"Why would I have any of that gross stuff?"

Arthur picked up the coffee cup in disdain, sniffing at it with a frown on his face. He really should have just ignored that comment, but instead seemed to find it was bothering him—no, this whole situation was bothering him immensely. One didn't do these things after a one-night stand. Sighing, he set the cup back down and pushed aside the covers to get out of bed.

"I'm sorry, but I really should get going," he said as he looked around the room for his boxers, noticing that they were at the end of the bed where he had kicked them off in haste last night. He saw his shirt where it had fallen to the floor after being unbuttoned, and then his trousers were in the same general area of the room. He quickly gathered them up, more than willing to get out of the apartment.

"Wait, don't go!" Alfred shouted, a tone of worry in his voice, "What about breakfast?"

"I truly appreciate the gesture, really," Arthur said, finally getting that thank you he wanted to say earlier out, though probably not how he wanted to; he almost sounded sarcastic, "But I really should have left after last night's," he paused as he shucked up his pants, "activities."

"No, I mean, it's totally okay; you can stay for breakfast, it really is no problem."

"But I really should get going," he was now buttoning up his Oxford, walking out of the bedroom and towards the doorway, where he was sure he kicked off his shoes; his socks could go to hell for all he cared. Finishing the last button of his shirt, he simultaneously put his coat on and stuck a foot into his shoes, flinching as the leather scratched against his feet, but altogether ignoring it. He wasn't aware that Alfred, clad only in a pair of blue plaid pajama bottoms, had followed him. Not until his hand had made a grab for the door knob, only for his other hand to suddenly be grasped and held firmly to prevent him from leaving.

"Please…please stay."

The American was almost pleading for him to stay. It was kind of pathetic, really.

"I…I…" Alfred stuttered, "I really like you."

"Alfred," Arthur said in a somewhat sorrowful tone, now really feeling like the bad guy, "you hardly know me."

"But I could get to know you!"

Arthur's heart panged at that. He really might have developed a soft spot for Alfred, but he was also feeling cautious around the other blonde. He needed to make something up, and fast. "I…you know, I won't be here long, Alfred. I need to go back home."

"So let's go on a date while you're here then!"

"Alfred…my schedule…its terribly busy, there really was a lot I wanted to see while I was on holiday," he lied.

"But I really would like to see you again," Alfred whimpered softly, sounding and looking almost like a kicked puppy. All it was doing was making Arthur feel even worse.

"…oh fine."

"Really?" Alfred exclaimed excitedly, his mood instantly brightening.

"We'll see. I need to check when I have free…"

"So send me you schedule and I can plan around it! Ah, wait here!" Alfred cried as he went to go retrieve his phone. "You better not leave!" he cried behind him, and Arthur couldn't help but chuckle. He could hear Alfred's feet excitedly shuffling across the wood floor and the movement in the bedroom as Alfred tried to locate his phone. Arthur could almost imagine the exact look on the other's face, the big smile that went from ear to ear as he found the phone and hurriedly ran back to meet Arthur at the door.

"Gimme your number."

"And then I can leave?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine, but I need your number first."

"Alright, then. 011…"

As Alfred dialed the number frantically into his phone while Arthur recited them from memory, an uneasy wave was going through Arthur's whole body. Who was he kidding? They weren't really going to go on a date, where they? They came from two different worlds, and he would be going back to his in a week's time. Halfheartedly, he asked, "Got it?"

"Got it!"

He feebly smiled, hand turning the door knob to leave. "Well then, I guess I will leave all of the planning to you then, and I shall see you later."

"Wait!" Alfred interjected again, this time, Arthur was already out the door, and he was getting rather irritated that the other kept him from really leaving. "Git, what do you want now?"

"Don't I get a goodbye kiss?"

Arthur blushed at that. He didn't even remember giving his former boyfriend a goodbye kiss most of the time. Alfred stood looking hopeful, and once again Arthur felt compelled to give in; he really couldn't say no to that insufferable tosser.

"Fine," he said back, and before Alfred could do anything he stood on his tiptoes and pressed his lips lightly to the others, for maybe a second or two. After the light peck he was finally able to leave, but not without Alfred jokingly whining behind him, "Oh come on! A real one!"

He laughed as he headed down the stairs. "Goodbye, Alfred."

...

They had tried to set something up. Alfred had texted him, even called him numerous times, but only on occasion would Arthur answer his calls, and preferred chatting with the taller blonde via text message. Arthur, who hadn't really been planning on doing anything while he was on holiday was now filling his time with meaningless tasks and going to see various museums and monuments. Hell, he had even sent him his schedule, somewhat excited about all that was going on around him. It wasn't until he got the text back when he really started to panic.

"g8! so sat 730 would work 4 u?"

No. No, no, no, what was he thinking? He was going back home in a few days! He couldn't get attached to the other like that. It wouldn't be logical to leave with a potential relationship hanging in the air like that, and he sure as hell didn't expect Alfred to stay committed to him when they were a whole ocean apart. No, it just wasn't logical!

…no, that wasn't really the reason. He was horribly scared of becoming attached. There was no way he would let himself be led into another relationship that ended horribly with him the one suffering. This one was doomed to fail; the distance would destroy what they had and then…

"I'm sorry, Alfred," he whispered to himself.

He never sent anything back after that. He didn't take any of the American's calls either. When he was back home, though, he would listen to those voice messages the other left him, and for many days would lull himself to sleep imagining what could have been.

...

"Sir…sir…"

Oh God, was he blushing? He couldn't remember a time his memory had been so vivid, Arthur shaking his head to rid himself of the redness upon his cheeks; really, in the middle of a cab?

"Sir, we're here."

He nodded, his hand still in his wallet to pay the man for the trip. Pulling out some crisp dollar bills he hesitated, holding them in his hands, rubbing his fingertips against the lightweight paper. This was the moment of truth; he could turn around right now, but if he paid the man and stepped out of the cab in front of the high school there was no going back.

His heart pounded in his chest and he could feel the cabbie staring blankly at him, hand held out to accept his pay and be on his way. Arthur bit his lip, took a deep breath, and then handed over the money, quickly muttering, "Keep the change" as he placed his shaky hand onto the door handle and opening it, letting himself out.

With that first foot on the sidewalk, he felt this surge of confidence. Yes, here he was, ready to tell Alfred, that insipid, egotistical, loveable fool, that he had flown all of the way back to New York on some crazy whim because he couldn't get the other out of his head, and that he was sorry for intentionally ignoring him and that while at the time he had meant it he was sorry and that he was just scared.

Hopefully when that moment came, he would be able to actually voice this to the other blonde.

"Right now," he muttered to himself, and he took the first stride towards the doors of the high school. With each step the nervousness faded away and the confidence built more and more. Here he was taking a hold of his destiny: he wasn't playing it safe like he had been told to all his life and he thrived off of that feeling of being in control.

"Excuse me, sir, but…"

He had burst into the school, the doors slamming forcefully as he marched forward, hell-bent on finding Alfred. He really had no idea which classroom the other was in and only knew that he taught chemistry, and bloody hell, this school seemed like a maze. No matter, though; Arthur was determined to find the other blonde's classroom, and he assertively strode past the woman who was telling him he needed to sign in for security reasons. No, he couldn't do that, he couldn't stop; any small delay could make him change his mind and before he knew it he could be on the plane back to England within the hour.

So he looked into the window of each classroom he passed on the first floor, which produced no results; the only things he saw in those were old women holding various books in his hand or the occasional man writing a long equation on the chalkboard with his back turned to the classroom as the students dozed off behind him. So he sprinted up the stairs, taking them almost two at a time, and then heading down the hall following his same pattern of quickly looking into the small window on the door.

It wasn't until his fifth classroom on the second floor that he stopped in his tracks, spotting Alfred in a long white lab coat as he dangled an open bag of what looked like gummy bears over a beaker of some unknown chemical; for all he knew it was just water, it looked like water. Arthur sighed in relief; he had been afraid he would be checking every classroom like this for the rest of the day. Admiring him, but only for a moment, he firmly grasped the knob of the door and hurriedly twisted it, opening the door with a great amount of force.

"Alfred F. Jones!"

The students stared in amazement and shock, some giggled that the teacher's full name had been used instead of the standard Mr. Jones. Of course, the one that was the most shocked was Alfred himself, his eyes growing wide as his hands loosened on the bag of gummy bears.

"A…A…Arthur!" he stuttered, dropping the bag of candy into the beaker of liquid.

What happened next was nothing short of disastrous. Arthur would later learn that it wasn't water in that beaker and that the chemical, known as potassium chlorate, had an extreme and violent reaction to sugar. Alfred, who had been planning on dropping only one into the mix to show his class the reaction, had now just dropped nearly the whole bag in, one after the other spilling down the slim neck of glass and meeting its perilous fate.

It wasn't until the smoke cleared and the fire alarms starting going off that Arthur assumed this hadn't been his smartest move.

Arthur sat on the curb of the sidewalk, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders as the scene around him continued to try and clean itself up. He was tired; the police had had a word with him as well as members of the school board, and he was getting irritated that they kept asking the same questions: who are you, why are you here, are you aware that this could take months and thousands of dollars to fix?

"Hey," a familiar voice next to him said, and if Arthur hadn't known that it was Alfred he would have told them to sod off. Arthur could feel himself tense, but didn't let anything show; he kept his gaze forward and didn't acknowledge the taller blonde, even as he crouched down to sit on the curb with him.

"Well, I guess no one was hurt…" Alfred began.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

"For blowing up your classroom…"Arthur began, but he was interrupted before he could continue.

"It was an accident; no big deal. Yeah, I'll have to be a bit more creative using my new teaching environment until all of the repairs are complete, but it'll all work out."

"No, no, that's not all," Arthur laughed at that though; blowing up a part of Alfred's school was the least of what he was really sorry for, and really meant the least in comparison to everything else. "I'm sorry for not returning your calls. I'm sorry for not giving this a chance. I'm so bloody sorry for being who I am."

"But that's what I like about you. I like who you are."

The silence, oh the silence, permeated the air after that comment. Arthur hadn't looked at him, kept his gaze forward so that Alfred wouldn't see him lest he actually start crying, and he turned away further so that the taller wouldn't see the blush now staining his cheeks. Godamnit, he was acting like a bloody woman!

"So…" Alfred began, his legs moving slightly as he twisted his feet into the dirt, "why did you come back?"

There was the question Arthur had been dreading the most. All of his confidence from earlier had diminished since the accident, and here and now, there was hardly any of it left. Alfred continued, noticing that Arthur wasn't going to say anything, at least not yet. "I've been thinking about you every day since, Arthur. I can't…I can't get you out of my mind."

This seemed to coax Arthur to speak, as after a few tense seconds, which seemed like hours in this situation, he answered his question. "I came back…" he paused, swallowed, and then continued, "I came back because I couldn't forget about you either. I might…I mean, maybe I'm just being an utter and complete fool, but…oh, bullocks, this is crazy!" Arthur said, half laughing at what he was saying, what he was about to say, if he could just build up the courage to say it. "I guess what I'm trying to say is," a big breath, "that perhaps there's a chance that I might have fallen in love with you," he finally got out, the last of that sentence barely audible among the sirens and the noise of the people behind him.

Alfred had still heard him, though, and now it was his turn to blush. This had really been the last thing he was expecting today, though to say he wasn't happy at the confession was false; his heart was now beating just as fast as the smaller blonde's. He could hardly bring himself to speak. "Arthur…I…"

"Oh, just say it," Arthur spat out, taking the sudden quiet as a sign of the worst. He abruptly got up, "I should have never come back here. Sorry for all of the trouble; I'll be leaving now."

"No, wait!"

Alfred reached out and grabbed Arthur by the wrist from his spot on the curb, Arthur holding back the tears in his eyes staring somewhat angrily at Alfred. Alfred only looked into those green eyes, the confession finally sinking in. All he could do was grin at the smaller blonde in return as he stood up. The taller blonde loosened the grip on the other's wrist and took Arthur's hand into his, gently rubbing at his fingertips.

"Arthur…I'm happy…I'm so happy right now, I don't think you understand how glad I am that you came back."

With that, Alfred pulled the other into his arms and held him there, Arthur's eyes widening as he felt his weight shift as the force of Alfred's tug sent him straight into the other blonde. He felt the other's arms wrap snuggly around his waist, and the tears he had been so desperately holding back now falling as he buried his face into Alfred's singed lab coat, the scent of smoke overwhelming but so was that same scent that had become so familiar to him even though he had only known it for a short time; coffee, sweat, that type of Axe cologne that the other put on every single morning. It was all there and it was all Alfred, and as the two embraced, Arthur's tears staining Alfred's newly ruined lab coat and Alfred trying his best not to cry himself, the two felt that same inner peace they both felt that very night when they had both held each other late into the night on New Year's Day.

**I was really hoping I could have written this in 3,000 words. It's over 6,000. Whoops.**

**Also, if you don't believe me about the potassium chlorate and gummi bears, look it up on YouTube. One of those little buggers in a small vile makes this really eerie noise and you can see it being destroyed in a very violent way.**

**Also, if you catch the Bridget Jones reference I award you ten internets. Well done.  
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**I guess I kind of based this over something similar that happened to me while I was on vacation. In a way this fic was closure because lately I've been wondering what could have happened if I had kept in touch with him or saw him again when he walked me back to my hotel on New Years.**

**Yes, all he did was walk me back and showed interest. Perverts…though I suppose after this is calling the kettle black…**

**Hope you enjoyed it!**


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